Smell
by aikakone
Summary: Between Angel seasons 1 and 2, Wes is trying to sleep at Cordy’s apartment and is thinking of the smell of things.


As one of the five "normal" human senses, this one is often ignored. Humanity prefers to see or to hear. In the night in the throes of passion, it is all touching and tasting. Smell is unique, however, and as a former Watcher, I know this.

See how even the name is slighted? Watcher. As if vision were all that was important. Seeing does not reveal the difference between the twin Tuli and Jää demons. To smell the Tuli is to smell copper and sulphur, while the Jää reminds of frost and mint. It would be a deadly mistake not to know the difference and choose incorrectly.

Smell is tied to the emotional part of our memory, and scientists know this. How often do we enter a new place and judge it by the smell that first greets our noses? What of the different times when we smell something insignificant that transports us to the memories of childhood, such as a bread that a grandmother baked or the musty smell of that friendly dog that has decided to follow us home? And for me there is the smell of blood, human and demon, both distinct and different, and the sickening memories of the first kill.

I actively smell, using my sense not as others do. I am aware of my surroundings. I am aware that I am here, underneath her blankets with my head on her pillows. Her scent is all around me and covers me more surely than this fabric ever could do. Its presence is so real, I suspect with some part of my being that I could reach out physically and touch it. Instead, I remain here and reach out with my senses taking it all into me.

I saw a few cartoons, usually with Bugs Bunny or those type of characters, in which scent was seen and went to trap a willing victim. The victim floated in ecstasy on air until it reached its final destination, most often a dangerous end. How fitting for my situation. Oh, and did I mention pheromones? How illogical of me to forget to mention that one point, but I am distracted. I am trapped here beneath her blankets, and wrapped in her sheets while she sleeps in the other room.

So you'll likely be wondering just who "she" is, won't you? Cordelia Chase. Queen C. The last person I expected to find when I came to Los Angeles. The last person I expected to kiss me so well when we met again. I know now that she was trying in vain to rid herself of visions, but just for a moment I was able to believe and hope that the kiss held something more.

I smelled her then as she was so near me. I have it imprinted into me and surely it goes to that deep place that is triggered when we least expect it. Cordelia alone always is clean and unobtrusive. It is one of the few things about her that could be construed as subtle. She might be covered in the odorous muck of a demon, but that which is hers alone is as calming to me as eucalyptus is to others.

I sensed her near me in the hospital when we were both recovering from our wounds after the destruction of Angel's apartment. I felt it and knew she was there. The smell of her had picked some primal lock in my brain until I just had a sense of knowing beyond all disguises in the nature of our surroundings that Cordelia was near me.

In that, Cordelia is always near me, or maybe I just imagine it. No, I'm not imagining it this time. She and her ghost glide by me on their way to the kitchen. Time for another glass of water. Bottled and room temperature, of course. She is still the same former Sunnydale rich girl for all her fallen finances. I smell her scent that drifts to me in the wake of her passing and listen now, adding to the experience of being near Cordelia.

Soon enough my eyes are cursed as she comes to me, bringing both pleasure and pain. Now with three senses I experience her meanwhile wishing to add touching and tasting to that equation.

"You can't sleep?" she asks as she sits on the sofa near me.

"I'm fine," I lie. Of course I can't sleep, but the cause of my wakefulness will not be revealed by these lips of mine.

She actually looks concerned for me. Just who is this mesmerizing creature that sits so near me? Yes, it's really Cordelia. I can smell her, remember?

"Do you want a glass of water?" She offers to me the glass she's been holding from which she has yet to drink.

"Yes," I say and have no idea why I accept. 

I sit up and reach for the glass. When our fingers touch, I feel a spark, though undoubtedly she does not. She made her change of feelings clear. 

When I have drunk my portion, I return the glass to her with a simple, "Thank you."

"You're welcome," she says quietly to me as I lean back, covering myself again in her blankets and in her scent.

She leans over me and strokes my brow, making me flinch, as she wishes me to sleep well. 

I know a restful sleep will not be coming to me soon as I am covered completely with part of her that she does not even know she has given. An explanation of my deepest thoughts will not be given to her this night. Instead I mumble a good night, while turning away from her visage and more deeply into the snare of the fragrance that is uniquely Cordelia.


End file.
